MTL - The city of Monkey King - Chapter 1187 Refinery

Upon meeting the girl who would become her adopted younger sister, the duke’s daughter Christina regained memories of her previous life. Through those memories, she learned that her new sister, Mishuli, was the heroine of a certain story. And though the story depicted a Christina who abused her sister, the real Christina turned into a siscon who spoiled Mishuli to no end.

When Bai Xun was bored, she played a dating game recommended by a friend. She entered the game and must keep up the affection with seven different types of men as the only way to clear the game. Only when she gets seven hearts safely can she go home? After many deaths, Bai Xun knew it, and could only live by paying closer attention!!

- Description from Novelupdates

Tian Shao wore it, and became the eldest of the six golden flowers of Tian Dalin’s family in the Hongqi Club in that difficult era.

In a family, the parents are dull and the mother is aggressive, the second sister is violent, the third sister is taciturn, the fourth sister is gluttonous, the fifth sister is brave, and the sixth sister is a cabbage.

Patriarchal? Don’t be afraid, a girl is better than a son. Familiar with nothing? Don’t be afraid, go to the factory to do business, and the small life is booming.

…

It is said that men chasing women, the mountains are separated; women chasing men, the gauze is separated. Tian Shao was puzzled why she and Pei Yue were separated by mountains.

Forget it, the iceberg is too high and cold.

Pei Yue stopped Tian Shao and said, “If you flirt, you have to be responsible. Let’s go to the Civil Affairs Bureau to get the certificate.”

- Description from novelbuddy

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.